


The Chase

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Non-Con (not major characters), M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Omega Dean, Sexist Culture, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3434228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a corrupt system where alphas must chase to claim an omega, Dean finds himself running and hoping he will make it through unmated. When unfortunate circumstances find him with all hope lost, salvation comes in someone he thought he'd never see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> The rape/non-con warning refers to the society/world in the story as a whole rather than specific events.

**12 hours ago**

Potholed red bricks click together like a puzzle to pave the way into an open courtyard, iridescent fires illuminating the path. Park benches and elms are donned in fairy lights, suspended glass jars a home to ignited candles. The town square has been transfigured into something of grandeur; opulence replacing elementary.

Dean would find it charming had circumstances been different. 

He steps, right foot, left foot, right foot, one after the other, an illusion of control where he has none. He follows in a trudge behind his fellow omegas, marching into the square. The omegas trek in from the south, the alphas from the north, before in unison, turning and facing the others in a mirror image. It’s so staged, so false, and the unnaturalness of it all pulls at his heart.

All the alphas are wearing suits, a symbol of their supposed power and class, dominance and supremacy. The omegas are dressed in elegant sundresses; pale pastels and floral waves. Even Dean, who is one of the only two male omegas, wears tight bleached jeans and a soft blouse. All soft and sweet, their so called "submission and obedience, kindness and gentleness" embodied in their clothes.

Dean thinks it’s utter bullshit. He’s a man of leather and plaid and baggy jeans, gender be damned; but rules are rules… Even if they are stupid ass rules.

“Welcome, everyone…” –Dean recognises the booming voice as Metatron, Mayor of their town. Dean despises that guy, seriously, he thinks he’s God or something– “…To the opening ceremony of the Fourteenth Annual Chase.” Cheers erupt from the townspeople, an array of shouts in anticipation and excitement. “We welcome our omegas and our alphas, who tomorrow, will fight so brilliantly in a quest to mate the one they love.”

Dean barely restrains from rolling his eyes at that. The Chase has nothing to do with _love._ It is all about giving alphas the opportunity to run down and claim the omega of their choosing. It is absolutely barbaric, nothing but a free chance for alphas to forcefully take what they want without facing consequence. After all, what is an omegas behests to an alphas liberty?

Dean gazes down the line of alphas. He spots a mop of bright red hair, as his childhood friend Charlie waves to him. She gestures down to her suit with a sneer on her face, as if to say ‘can you believe this.’ Dean levels her with a look that says ‘you can’t complain, look at me.’ He hears her giggle at that, only to be nudged by an alpha next to her telling her to be quiet. Seeing Charlie in a monotone suit is so strange and foreign to him. He can’t remember her wearing anything that didn’t have at least half the colours of the rainbow on it.

He keeps looking, but he can only see about half of all the alphas from his position in line. Even so, he’d be lying if he said he was impressed.

But Dean has a plan. All he has to do is last through The Chase without being claimed, if he can do that, if he can come out of this without a mate, he would be able choose who he wanted to be with. Each participant was only obligated to compete once; it was considered a gift to have this opportunity, a surefire chance to obtain a mate.

 _Rich gift_. 

Vis-à-vis, all he has to do is outlast them until the finishing canon blows, and he would be free. Only problem, this year there are more alphas than omegas being put in the arena, so that chances of that happening are about negative ten percent.

Ok, so it’s not exactly a solid plan, but he’s working with what he’s got.

After Metatron announces for the townspeople to enjoy the festivities, the weres are dismissed and directed to shower in preparation for the games. Dean, eager to get a good sleep, goes straight to the bathroom, silently making his way to a small stall.

He turns the taps, sighing in pleasure as water strikes him. He lets it cascade down the smooth curves of his back, steamed tendrils drawing the stress from his pores. Liquid fronds hug his body, his face, his arms, his legs.

_His legs._

Dean drags his hand to the cleft of his ass before dipping in. He freezes. It’s warm and wet, yet thick and lubricated. Dean realises he’s hit his heat the night before The Chase.

It would make him an even bigger target, and he’s almost certain all alphas would be gunning for him now.

He grabs his towel and slings it around his hips, tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he storms out. He catches the pitying and worried looks of the other omegas, a mantra of _no, no, no, no_ running through his head. This can’t be happening, not now of all times.

Dean’s breathes grow ragged as he fights for air that evades him. He is condemned, there is no way he can escape unscathed in his condition.

The only flicker of hope he desperately clings to is that whoever claims him isn’t completely horrid.

Yep, Dean’s screwed.

* * *

**Now**

A loud boom signals the opening of the gates, the entrance of the alphas into the arena. He can see in his mind how they charge out, the faster ones running ahead, gaining ground, an invisible string dragging the slower of the pack as they fight to keep up.

Dean has a five minute head start on them.

A slap resounds through the air as foot hits ground, the sound ricocheting off the dispersed tree trunks. The splash of water underfoot echoes through the arena as the young omega makes his way across the creek, the waterway growing wider as it transforms into a ravine. Thick foliage paints the forest floor where tree trunks sprout from dirt, branches like fingers that reached to touch the sky.

Warm beams of sunlight shine through the treetops in scattered rays, lighting the expanse of vibrant greens among argyle brown. It’s a kaleidoscopic mosaic of greens and browns and golds, eerily reflective of the omegas eyes.

Dean would stop to appreciate the beauty had the situation not been so dire.

These parts of the forest have always been distinctly beautiful to Dean, a sense of serenity and grace that is unique to this clearance alone. Dean had visited these parts many times as a child, carefree and worriless, a ridicule of the fear and distress that seizes his heart now. Yes, he knows the area well; it signals the opening to the crater lake. If he keeps going, he runs the risk of being trapped down below. High ground is always safest, but if he stays, he will be left wide in the open, practically begging to be chased down. He hears the distant growl of an alpha closing in on him, his heart jumping in dread and affectively making the choice for him.

He stumbles gracelessly down the steep hill, slippery and wet from residue rain from the night before. It had stormed throughout the night after the ceremony had finished.

Water follows Dean’s path downwards, collecting in the lake.

Dean realises his mistake too late.

He halts to a stop when he’s met with the higher than usual tide. The water level eclipses his knee where it usually fails to graze ankle.

The storm had flooded the area. Ten steps forward and he would be neck deep in water, he’d have to swim.

He knows once he enters the lake he will be doomed for. The splashing it would take to make it across would instantly draw any alphas nearby him; any pace he sets an alpha would match with ease. Even if he did beat them through, as soon as he hits land his depleted energy would mean being run down within steps, tackled and claimed right there on the spot.

He was stuck, grounded. The only other way out was back the way he came, but he knows it’s out of the picture, he can already hear an alpha following his path, his _scent._ Whoever they are, they're closing in. He keeps on running, ignoring the squelch of slick in his pants and his lungs protesting as he wheezes for air. He can’t afford to stop, one moment of negligence and the alpha will catch him. He has to move, no matter how much he hurts, no matter how much he feels like he’s suffocating, he has to keep moving.

He turns in circles franticly looking for an escape. He lacks the strength to be able to climb the rock face, swimming is out of the picture, as too is turning back. Dean, desperate for salvation, does the only thing he can do. He hides.

He pulls out synthetic alpha pheromones that he had stashed in his pocket, a gift from his brother in the lingering hope that he could out last the alphas. He rubs himself with them, an attempt to mask the strong scent of his heat. He knows if any alpha gets close enough they will be able to tell he is an omega, if not because the scent of his heat overpowers the pheromones, but also because of the embroidered ‘Ω’ on his uniform. He just prays the smell holds up well enough that no one will come looking.

He catches site of where winter mogul on the rock face shifts into a charcoal grey, the concave of rocks on cliff broaching the entrance to a cave. Refusing yet to succumb to relief, he toes wearily inside as the light grows dimmer and dimmer. Once submerged to what felt safe, Dean leans back against the rough walls and slowly slides down until he is sat on hard rocky floor.

The cave is unnaturally calm, a mockery of the uncontrollable storm of suspense and worry that Dean feels crawl beneath his skin. It’s completely silent but for Dean’s ragged breathes.

Quiet.

Time escapes him, and he has no idea how long he’s been sitting there, lost within his thoughts, though he’s sure it has been at least an hour. The dim glow of the sun that managed to weave its way through the maze of rock, and into the deep crannies of the cave had been evenly dispersed through the whole area. Now, the miniscule lighting hits only one wall of the cave. It’s coming from a different angle; the sun must be descending in the sky.

Just when he concludes the alpha must have lost him, he hears a light splash of foot in puddle. The shallow deluges in the cave ripple as steps displace water, miniature waves running towards Dean and lapping at his ankles.

If his scent doesn't give away his hideout, he's sure the thrumming of his heart will do it.

The alpha that was chasing him before had smelled vile and rotten, running with heavy steps as he crushed the life beneath him, a trail of despair and demise in his path. The alpha that was chasing him before was _Alistair_.

 _Please, God, no_ he chants in his head, though he knows resistance is futile now. Dean is trapped, stuck in the lion’s den like a lamb ready for slaughter. Whoever this is, this would be his mate. _Please, please don’t let it be Alistair. Anyone but him._

He hears a groan, his biology betraying him and releasing a fresh wave of slick as the alpha approaches. No matter how much he wills his body to stop, the presence of a potential mate urges on his heat.

He sniffs the air, picking up the nutty aroma of cinnamon, mixed with something not unlike the smell of the ocean on a rainy day. His head tells him that the particular combination shouldn’t make sense together, shouldn’t be so tantalizing, but for some reason, it is the greatest thing he’s ever smelled. It seems so familiar, but Dean cannot seem to place why, cannot remember why it strikes him as home.

Whoever this is, they are definitely _not_ Alistair.

The first thing Dean notices is not the array of dark unruly hair, or lean but toned body, nor is it the bright blue eyes that shine even in the darkness of the cave. No, it is the slow stream of blood that trickles down the alphas shirt that draws his eye. Red blotches are inked into white shirt like a Rorschach painting, bleeding into the obscured 'α' on the alphas uniform.

Their eyes connect, and Dean feels something he thought would never happen. It’s like lightning running through his veins, like he has found some part of him he’d never known was missing, something he believed to be myth. Dean looks at the alpha and his vision flashes back to his childhood. Memories of two young boys holding hands and running through sprinklers on a hot summer’s day. Memories of flying kites together and playing house with a baby Sammy. Memories of crying into his mother’s stomach when his best friend in the whole wide world had to move away and he thought he’d never see him again.

He understands why that scent is so familiar, he’d spent many of his younger years with that scent every single day, though now, as a presented alpha, it is that much more potent.

He remembers the boy with the bright blue eyes, and one thought invades his mind.

He means to say “ _Cas,”_ but the word that leaves his mouth is “Mate.”

_* * *_

Castiel staggers into the cave, blood languidly oozing from his chest. He knows that sometimes these games get rough, that sometimes an alpha would get badly wounded when fighting the omega of their affections, but he underestimated the sheer ferocity of some of his kind. Alphas can be so primitive when reduced to base instinct. When he had picked up the scent of _omega in distress,_ he hadn’t hesitated to chase the smell, his inner alpha screaming to _protectprotectprotect._ He saw that ugly bastard Zachariah crowding in on his sister Anna, worry etched on her face. He hadn’t hesitated to attack, fighting him off and yelling at her to run. For such a sorry excuse of an alpha, he had been stronger than Cas anticipated, but his sister had gotten free, she had another chance. He just hopes she hasn't been caught.

After knocking the brute unconscious, he had fled, running he knew not where, no plan but to find a hidden haven to avade him for the remainder of the game. It was not until he was drawn in by a glorious aroma that he found his direction. He let it guide him, drawing him in like a magnetic tug.

That was how he found himself hear, tracing memories as he walks into the darkness, blood dripping as rosy stems reach through the water and paint it red.

When he locks eyes with the omega, he feels _something_ pull deep in his chest, feels his eyes widen, spontaneous arousal blooming and a _need_ to touch, feel, _claim_.

“Mate.” The omega says, and Castiel feels a metaphysical pull.

He faintly recognizes the sound of alphas approaching the dip in the land, following the path he had just taken, undoubtedly drawn in by the intoxicating fragrance of omega in heat, and if he isn’t the finest omega Castiel has ever seen. He has the smell of spice, wood and worn leather, something so heady and warm that reminds Castiel of home.

His _childhood_ home _…_ “Dean.”

The pain he felt before is a distant memory now, clouded by a chant of _knotbreedmate_ that consumes him. He moans as the omega releases another wave of slick, coming up to the height of his heat. They gravitate towards each other, and the young omegas growl pulls him from his reverie.

“I missed you, Cas.” The green eyed beauty tells him. Castiel fights for his composure, tries to maintain his sanity in a moment of pure ecstasy. He remembers being taught about this, _true mates,_ and the feeling is almost impossible to fight. He never thought he’d be so lucky as to reunite with Dean. The unbelievable heartbreak he’d felt when they were separated makes far more sense now.

“Hello, Dean.” He replies, voice shaking in desperation; desperation to be closer, rekindle, to touch Dean once more.

He glances back to the stunning boy, finding his pupils have devoured the vivacious green of his irises. Castiel’s resolve fades as a large hand wraps around his bicep, heaving him to meet chest to chest with Dean. He can properly see now the delicate features he has, dusky pink lips, a smatter of freckles on his sun kissed skin. He looks just like he did as a little boy, only difference is he’s more defined now, sharp jaw replacing chubby cheeks, spiked blonde hair replacing a childishly adorable bowl cut.

He’s so consumed by him it surprises him completely when warm lips press against his own.

He stills for a moment before he catches up, beginning to move with him. He angles his head, lips locking together like they were made to be there. He relishes in the drawn out groan he pulls from the omega when he gently tugs on his lips with his teeth, before taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth. They stay like that for some time, kissing lazily as tongues twist over another, hot and insistent before the need for more grows too strong.

Dean’s fingers knot in his hair, tugging and pulling in a semblance of dominance that was so untypical of an omega. It urges him on as he pushes Dean against the wall, hands beneath his thighs and using the leverage to lift the others hips. Dean wraps his legs around Castiel’s waist, using his heels to drag him in even closer.

“Please, Cas, need you.”

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks. He doesn’t want Dean acting brazenly, decision made in the heat of the moment.

Dean nods the affirmative, tugging Castiel’s earlobe into his mouth as he whispers, “I know you can hear the other alphas coming. Claim me before they can, _please.”_

If he had any control left before, it is far gone now, the thought of losing Dean to someone else too unbearable, not when he’s just found him again. The urge to complete the mating bond is drawing them in like a siren song, too powerful to resist.

Castiel walks over to where a jut in the cave protrudes in a mimic of a bed, surely a sign this was destined to happen. He lays Dean down before crawling on top of him, looking into his eyes at he ruts into his hip. The gasps the omega beneath him let out are absolutely sinful, and Cas wastes no time before he shreds apart the polyamid and elastane of the omegas uniform, falling like dead leaves to the floor.

It's all the encouragement they both need to quickly rid themselves of the rest of their clothes, abandoned and forgotten, completely exposed to each other in the privacy of the alcove. Their combined body heat engulfs them, a cocoon of warmth suspended in the frigid air of the grotto.

A pathetic mewl escapes his lips as a fresh wave of slick is released, a sweet alluring smell that elicits a hypnotic attraction from the alpha. He places kisses down Deans body, to his collarbone, ribs, naval, the inside of his thigh, before resistance becomes fruitless, and the need is all he knows. He pries Dean’s legs further apart in crude promise, eying his pink hole, fluttering for attention, and dips his nose and dives in, lapping and ravishing the sweetness he finds there.

“Fuck!” Dean shoats, and Cas looks up at him to smirk, before there’s alpha tongue eating him out again. Dean thrusts back, trying to get him even deeper, throwing his head back when he strikes that special spot. “Fuck, keep going.”

“You taste so sweet, Dean.” He says as he keeps lapping and swallowing, like honey on his tongue, something he never thought he could taste so enticing, so addictive. “Perfect omega.”

Dean’s cock is huge and throbbing between his legs, so much bigger than an omega has any right to be, and Cas has to taste it, he can’t miss an inch of Dean. A feral look gleams in his eye as he nuzzles into his erection, a growl rumbling deep in his chest, before he sucks Dean’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and bobbing, taking him in all the way. Dean whimpers beneath him, and his inner alpha preens at being able to bring pleasure to his omega, being able to take care of him.

He pulls off with an obscene pop, omega beneath him whining at the loss.

“Cas, fuck me, before the other alphas get here. Want you, only you.” The omega begs of him, the desire a harmony of music in his head.

If Cas had a choice, this is not how he’d take Dean. He’d treat him right, court him, indulge him with gifts and affection, but unfortunately it’s not an option, not when he can smell three alphas fighting each other to reach the omega first. _His_ omega.

“Mine,” Cas says, heart beating in excitement as he waits for the next words.

Dean whimpers and nods, “Yours.”

Castiel pushes two fingers into Dean’s entrance, rapt at how greedily his hole swallows Cas in. He’s entranced.

"I’m an omega, I don’t need to be opened up. Just get on with it you fucking tease.” Dean says challengingly, yet Cas can sense a lightheartedness in his tone. It takes him off guard, omegas usually aren’t so demanding of alphas, though he shouldn’t be surprised; Dean has always been like that. Nothing of him screams typical omega. He’s tall, broad shouldered with hard muscle, the archetypal appearance of an alpha, and he’s not afraid to say what he wants.

Castiel has always loved that part of him.

Back when they were kids, Dean and Cas would giggle about how they would get married and mated when they were older. They even had a fake wedding once, Sam and Anna the respective best men, Charlie the celebrant. Cas had walked down the aisle to a waiting Dean, his beautiful wedding dress a white bed sheet draped around his body. They'd exchanged vows of "you're awesome" and "you have pretty eyes, Dean" before placing their wedding bands -ring pops- on each other's stubby fingers. They’d innocently smacked lips as the adults cooed and clapped. A bright light flashed as Mary Winchester took a picture.

Everyone always thought Dean would be the alpha, and Cas would be the omega.

How things have changed.

“Come on Cas, get a move on.”

Castiel grins and heaves Dean up, lifting his leg to rest over Cas’ shoulder. Dean gets the hint and places the other leg to match, locking his ankles together behind Castiel’s neck. The omega is practically bent in half underneath him, his slick entrance puffy and exposed. He aligns his cock against Dean’s rim, and with one smooth motion, pushes all the way inside.

He groans as he’s immersed in Dean’s heat, tight and _so good,_ unbelievably hot in the stony recesses of the cliff.

He starts out slowly, gripping Dean’s hips and thrusting in a steady, controlled rhythm. Dean moans in abandon beneath him, a flicker of relief to his demanding heat.

Cas can see as the other alphas that were fighting to get to Dean blunder into the cave. They watch them with hungry eyes, glaring at them as they move together. He sees one begin to approach, yearning to throw Castiel off and take the omega for himself.

Castiel has not knotted Dean yet, he’s not officially his.

He turns to face the stupidly bold alpha, and snarls furiously, blue eyes turning alpha red. He becomes something purely primal, flashes his canines, a warning that he will go feral alpha on them if they take one more step. He’s stripped down to his innate nature, and he growls possessively, his warnings bleeding _MineMineMine._ He drives his hips even faster, lewd echo of balls slapping ass, pumping harder and harder to show the others he’s strong, better than them, a better alpha to his omega than they could ever be.

His feeling of haughtiness lasts mere seconds before its replaced by worry when he feels Dean push him away, anxiety that one of these alphas might smell better to Dean than he does. Logic tells him it can’t be the case, if they are true mates then no one will ever smell as good to each other as they do, may even border on repulsive, but his alpha isn’t running on logic right now. His alpha is running on base instinct.

He lets out an involuntary whimper of distress as his omega pushes away from him and he slips free, rejection like a knife that arcs deep into his chest.

But then Dean turns over, on hands and knees before he lowers his head to the rocks, ass up in the air. He’s _presenting_ for Cas, and he looks right at the others as he says “Breed me, alpha.”

It’s a clear statement he makes to the them, he’s saying that he belongs to Cas and _only_ Cas, the possessiveness of the omega making him ache that much harder, and it’s not long before he drapes himself over Dean, and pushes right back in. Castiel resumes his thrusts, faster and sharper as he plows into Dean, fucking him so hard that he begins to slide on the dewy rocks. Cas curls his arm around him, pulling his hips back and urging Dean to meet him thrust for thrust.

He plays with Dean’s nipples in his hand, rolling the nub in his nimble fingers as he writhes underneath him, before taking his cock in hand and pumping in time with the snap of his hips. He can feel Dean’s channel begin to convulse around him and the beginnings of his swelling knot.

No one should get to see Dean like this but him, and he looks towards the heartbeats he can still hear lingering in the corner. “Get out, _NOW!”_ He yells at them, voice several octaves deeper than usual. It’s his alpha voice, and even the most impetuous of weres know to stay far away from an alpha in his state. They retreat hastily, no doubt cutting their loses and looking for the next warm hole to claim.

“Thanks, that was – _aahhh–_ that was starting to… get on my fucking nerves.”

“You’re my omega, Dean, only _I_ get to see you like this. Only _I_ get to hear the pretty noises you make when you come, how beautiful you look spread open on my knot. Only me, Dean.”

“Only you.” He agrees. “Need you so bad, Cas. Want you to fill me up good.”

Cas perks up at Dean’s words, and his perfect lips curl into a smirk, fucking his hips back to take Cas deeper and harder.

His thrusts become erratic, grunts and groans as he nears his climax, knot growing, catching Dean’s rim and anchoring him inside. Dean rolls him hips in sensual circles, rubbing Castiel’s huge knot on his prostate, screaming as it brushes him over and over. That’s all both of them need.

Castiel comes hard deep inside the omega, his face buried in the crook of Dean’s neck, Dean painting his hand and own chest in thick ropes of come.

“ _Cas!”_ Dean cries as Cas bends forward and sinks his teeth into Dean’s neck, completing his claim, hips rocking slowly as he milks them both through their orgasms. The quietness is filled only by their panting breathes as they come down their highs, Cas lapping at the mark, licking clean the blood that seeps from the wound.

Castiel gently caresses his hand up and down Dean’s back, tracing over the soft ridges of his spine. Dean hums in content, angling his head awkwardly to gaze into blue eyes. Cas captures Dean’s lips in his own, so soft and chaste and opposite of everything they’d just done. It’s affectionate, such an intimate act that the promise it brings for the future has Cas feeling giddy.

He slowly eases them so that they lay on their sides, Dean’s back flush against his chest, as he cradles him in his arms.

“Not bad, Alpha. You’re real hot now that your body has grown into that massive head of yours. And you’re quite the lay too.”

Cas ceases his kisses to Dean’s neck, interrupted by the chuckle that erupts from him. Dean smiles as he feels the laugh vibrate through him, warmth pooling deep in his belly. “Well, one would hope so. You’re kind of stuck with me now.” They laugh together.

Off and on, Cas releases another load of come, both boys moaning in completion as it happens. When Cas’ knot finally deflates enough for them to separate, they face one another, foreheads resting against the other. They both lose themselves in orbs of hunter green and ocean blue, occasionally kissing languidly in a hot tangle of tongues.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“When we get out of here, what do you say we do that wedding properly this time?”

Cas smiles.

 

 

It’s exactly what they end up doing. Sam and Anna are still the best men, Charlie is still the celebrant. The only difference this time, is its Dean walking down the aisle, a smile that lights up the whole room on his face, as he makes his way to Castiel.

They kiss, people coo, and Mary takes a picture.

Their second wedding photo goes right next to their first one.


End file.
